


We'll Be Together

by lunasenzanotte



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Character Death, Comfort, Death, M/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cristiano finds out he only has three months to live. That very day, he meets the love of his life. He fears they only have too little time, but in fact they could have more time than he thinks. Because Fábio is not what he seems to be...</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Be Together

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how I forgot about this and only left it on my LJ. This is a self-fill for a prompt, sort of a Meet Joe Black inspired story.

Cristiano feels like he's in some bad hollywood movie. He's looking at the doctor in his impeccably white coat, at the X-ray on the lit-up board behind him, at the papers on the table, and still waits for someone to shout "Cut!" But there's no cut, no rewind, no cameras. He just gets up and staggers to the door. He feels and moves like he's drunk. But even if he was, he would sober up quickly in that room.

  
_Three months._   


  
He doesn't remember how he gets out of the hospital, doesn't remember anything else than his shoes on the wet sidewalks, stomping on the fallen leaves. When he comes at least a little bit to his senses, he's sitting on a bench in some park he doesn't know. It's then that the tears finally come, falling on his jeans together with the November rain, the loud sobs choking him as they fight their way out his throat.

  
Something touches his shoulder lightly and Cristiano startles, turning around to see a man sitting next to him. He didn't even notice he sat there. The man, or boy, Cristiano can't quite decide, is watching him with dark eyes full of some mixture of compassion and curiousness. He has a strangely sad face. Cristiano can't imagine him smiling. "Let it out," he says quietly. "It helps."

  
"Not me," Cristiano croaks. "Nothing can help me."

  
He notices that the stranger's hand is still on his shoulder. For some reason he doesn't even think it's strange.

  
"You should get out of this rain," the stranger says. "You're cold."

  
"It doesn't matter anymore," Cristiano laughs.

  
"Of course it does." Still the same quiet, calm voice. "I think you could use a cup of something hot," he says.

  
And suddenly the words make sense. Suddenly Cristiano understands that he can't just sit on this bench for the three months he has left and just wait for the death to come. He nods and gets up. The stranger is still looking at him and in a way, his presence is oddly comforting. Suddenly Cristiano doesn't want to be alone. "Would you like to join me?" he asks.

  
The stranger hesitates for a moment and then smiles. It's a little, shy smile, like he's not used to smile very often. "Yes, I would like to."

 

***

 

Cristiano has never been into coffee, he has never understood the people obsessed with it to the point that the big paper cups filled with the black liquid were a part of their attire same as ties or handbags. But now he finds the smell of coffee pleasant and comforting.  _Maybe it's true that knowing your time is limited changes your way of perceiving things._  


  
The stranger is sitting opposite to him, watching him attentively like a silent guardian.

  
"I... I'm sorry," Cristiano finally blurts out.

  
"For?"

  
"Acting like this, I'm just a bit out of my mind, I'm..."

  
"It's alright. Everyone takes it differently."

  
Cristiano frowns. "Takes what?"

  
"Bad news. I suppose you got some."

  
Cristiano wants to let out a chuckle, but it gets stuck in his throat. He just nods instead. Then he shakes his head. "I'm so out of my mind that I haven't yet introduced myself," he says. "You don't even know whose nonsense you're listening to." He outstretches his hand. "Cristiano."

  
The stranger smiles and shakes his hand. "Fábio."

  
"Do you always attend to crying idiots in the parks, Fábio?" Cristiano asks.

  
Fábio's face stays serious. "No, just you."

  
"Why me?"

  
"Because I like you."

  
"Like me?" Cristiano chuckles. "You don't even know me."

  
"And do you know yourself?" Fábio asks.

  
Cristiano frowns. "What do you mean?"

  
"I mean that if you really knew yourself, you would know why I like you."

  
"I don't think I'm a very likable person. Certainly not at the first sight, and those who overcome the first sight usually run away soon after."

  
"I'm still here," Fábio smiles. "And I'm not going anywhere."

 

***

 

They end up spending the day together. Cristiano feels like for the first time he has someone by his side who is not trying to change who he is, who is not invading his personal space but is there when he needs it. Fábio doesn't think anything Cristiano does is strange, even when he just stands close to a children's playground for about half an hour, just watching the kids play and thinking about his son, thinking about what he's going to do, about never seeing his son growing up. Fábio just stands next to him with something Cristiano would call a knowing smile, had Fábio known what the bad news he received this morning was.

 

***

 

Cristiano never lets anyone in his house, except the nanny and the woman who cleans it once a week. He doesn't have visits, doesn't organize parties, doesn't invite neighbors for a cup of coffee. When he invites Fábio in, it feels like he's breaking some rules he's set for himself. But on the other hand, breaking them now doesn't matter anyway, and he's afraid to be alone in the empty house. With Fábio, he's managed to stop thinking about death, X-rays, blood tests and his own funeral at least for some time. He doesn't want to start thinking about it again.

 

Fábio isn't the usual nosy visitor. He's not looking around, picking up frames with pictures, asking questions about the house and it's inhabitants. He just sits on the sofa and accepts the glass Cristiano hands him.

 

"I wanted to... thank you," Cristiano says.

  
"For?"

  
"For being here. I mean, you don't know me at all, but I... but I already feel much better."

  
"I'm glad you do," Fábio smiles. "You're a strong person, Cris. I like you for that."

  
Cristiano looks at him. Their faces are closer than he had thought and for a moment all he can see are Fábio's eyes. When he looks in them, it feels like he's falling somewhere deep and dark. "Don't tell me that just on this day I find the love of my life!" Cristiano breathes out.

  
"Why?" Fábio asks calmly.

  
"Because I couldn't find it for my whole life."

  
"Then why not today?"

  
"Because it's too late now."

  
"It's never too late."

  
Cristiano takes a deep breath. "I'm going to die," he whispers.

  
"I know," Fábio nods.

  
Cristiano looks at him. Fábio's face still has the calm, peaceful expression. "Yeah, right, everyone is going to die, I know, but I... we don't have enough time."

  
"We might have more time than you think, Cris."

  
The realization comes the second after and makes him jump up and take two steps back from Fábio. Then his reason shouts at him that it's absurd and he takes one step towards him. He shakes his head wildly.

  
"You are not crazy," Fábio says quietly. "And I'm not a dream either."

  
Cristiano gasps and sits on the sofa, his eyes not leaving Fábio's. "You're not called Fábio," he states then, his voice shaking.

  
_Starting from the easiest things._   


  
"No. But you can continue calling me that, as I don't have a name. Not a real one."

  
"You're..." Cristiano shakes his head again.

  
"Go on," Fábio nods. "Say it."

  
"You're Death."

  
"Right," Fábio gives a small smile. "That's what I am."

  
There is a moment of silence. Or it might be an hour of silence, Cristiano doesn't know. "Why me?" Cristiano whispers. "Why did you choose me? Why does it have to be me?"

  
Fábio's voice is steady and calm, but somehow comforting. "I didn't choose you. It was your turn."

  
"I don't want to die!"

  
"Nobody wants to die, Cris. But everyone has to."

  
"But I... I'm young, I have a little son, I..."

  
"I'm sorry, Cris. It's like it is."

  
"This is all you will say?"

  
Fábio shrugs. "Be angry with me if you want to. It's alright."

  
Cristiano sighs. "I'm not angry with you," he says then. "You just do your job, I think. If it can be called a job."

  
"Thank you. For understanding."

  
Cristiano lifts his eyes again and looks at Fábio. He can't help but smile at the thought that crosses his mind.

  
"What is it?" Fábio asks.

  
"Just... I wouldn't expect Death to look like you. You're quite... beautiful."

  
"Not always."

  
Cristiano leans back and laughs. "So the true love I've been waiting for all my life is finally... Death."

  
"And why am I your true love, Cris?"

  
"Because you accept me as I am, you don't want to change me. You're just here for me and you want nothing in return."

  
"I want you to accept me as I am as well, Cris," Fábio says. "Can you do that?"

  
Cristiano stays silent for a while. Then he moves closer to Fábio and reaches for his hand tentatively. "I think I can try."

  
His other hand touches Fábio's face lightly and he leans towards him. Fábio watches him, then backs up in the last moment before their lips touch. "Wait... I..."

  
"What?" Cristiano smirks. "Are  _you_  afraid of  _me_?"

  
"I just... I've seen this many times, but I've never done it myself, you know?"

  
"No?" Cristiano raises his brows. "What about the famous kiss of Death, then?"

  
"Don't believe everything you read."

  
"Then if I kiss you now, I won't die immediately?"

  
"And if you will?" Fábio asks.

  
"I still want to kiss you," Cristiano whispers and presses his lips to Fábio's.

  
He doesn't die, on the contrary, he feels more alive than he's ever felt. When they break the kiss, Fábio gives him the most sincere, childishly candid smile Cristiano has ever seen.

  
"Thank you!" he whispers. "So this is what... what it's about."

  
"We can do it again whenever you want to," Cristiano smiles. "If you want to."

  
Fábio smirks. "I certainly want to."

  
The antique clock in the corner of the room strikes half past five. Cristiano bites his lip. "I'm sorry... the nanny will bring my son home soon and..."

  
"Of course," Fábio nods. "I understand."

  
"But... will I see you again?"

  
"Whenever you want to, I'll be here."

  
He's gone before Cristiano can blink.

 

 

***

 

Cristiano wakes up in the middle of the afternoon. He turns his head and jumps up. Fábio is laying next to him, leaning on one elbow, watching him. "What... are you doing here?" Cristiano asks and rubs his eyes.

  
"Watching you," Fábio says. "You looked so peaceful. Beautiful."

  
"I fell asleep, I was tired, I..." he startles suddenly. "Cris!"

  
"He's playing in his room," Fábio smiles. "He's beautiful like you."

  
Cristiano relaxes again. Fábio reaches out and caresses his cheek. It makes him feel better, the pain subsiding for a moment. He forgets the pills on his nightstand that he wanted to take.

  
"Why Fábio?" he asks suddenly.

  
"What?"

  
"Why did you choose to call yourself Fábio?"

  
Fábio smiles. "In the coffee shop, that morning... you introduced yourself, and I suddenly didn't know what to say. The waiter had it written on his badge."

  
Cristiano laughs.

  
"And after all, I think it's a good name," Fábio shrugs. "It gives an idea of someone nice."

  
"And you are nice?"

  
"I try to be."

  
Cristiano closes his eyes for a moment. Then he looks at Fábio hopefully. "You say that you love me. That I'm different."

  
"You are."

  
"Then why don't you give me some more time?"

  
Fábio frowns and shakes his head. "Don't bargain with me, Cris."

  
"But what does it matter to you?"

  
"There is the right time for everything, Cris. Things you cannot change. It's what keeps the world in balance."

  
"So my death will keep the world in balance?" Cristiano snorts.

  
"Yes. Imagine the world like a giant machine. If you alter something, even the smallest part, it won't work the same anymore."

  
Cristiano hangs his head down. Fábio lays a hand on his shoulder. "You should tell someone, Cris."

  
Cristiano shakes his head. "I've always dealt with everything alone. I will deal with this... with you... alone."

  
"I know you have, but do you really think you can just leave like this? Do you think it will hurt less? Trust me, it's not a good idea."

  
"Well, who do you think I should tell? I'm not keeping in touch with my family anymore."

  
"What about friends? Boyfriends, girlfriends..."

  
"No."

  
"What about Ricardo, Cris?"

  
Cristiano lifts his head and looks at him. "How do you know about Ricky?"

  
"I know everything," Fábio smiles. "Wouldn't he be the right one? Wouldn't he understand? Take care of you?"

  
"He has his own life now. I can't want this from him."

  
Fábio looks him in the eyes. "Think about it. It's not going to get better. Think of Cris. Someone will have to take care of him. Someone will have to take care of you. It's not the right time to be alone."

  
"I have you," Cristiano whispers.

  
"I can't do these things for you. I am..."

  
"Yes, I know who you are," Cristiano sighs.

  
Then he turns to the door. Cris Jr. is standing there like he's waiting for them to finish their discussion. "Are you tired, dad?" he asks.

  
"Just a little bit," Cristiano says. "I'll just rest for a minute and then I'll come to you."

  
"Can I show Fábio my toys until you come?"

  
"Wh..." Cristiano gasps and turns to Fábio. "He can see you?"

  
Fábio shrugs but doesn't look surprised. "There are such people." He gets up from the bed and smiles. "Let's go! I've never had toys myself."

  
"No?" Cris frowns. "Then I should give you some!"

  
Cristiano smiles and lays his head on the pillow again.

  
When he comes to Cris' room, it feels like a big weight lifts from his heart. He feels calm like never before. How could he fear Death when Death is sitting on the floor in his son's room, playing with a big white teddy bear?

  
***

 

The doorbell rings when Cristiano tries to formulate his last will. Actually, it's not so hard because he leaves everything to Cris, but he can't decide whether to put in there something clever, maybe some legacy. Finally he decides that he will not be too dramatic. Last will should be a material, practical thing.

  
He goes to the door and opens it. He gasps when he sees Ricardo standing on the doorstep. Ricardo apparently didn't expect to see Cristiano in this state as well, but he doesn't comment on it.

  
"Ricky?" Cristiano asks.

  
"I... Cris, I know we haven't talked in a long time but... I had to come. It's like something was telling me to come."

  
_Or rather someone_ , Cristiano thinks. He motions for Ricardo to come in. When he moves, Cristiano sees Fábio standing right behind him, smiling. When he blinks, Fábio is gone.

 

***

 

Days go by, all the same in the plain white hospital room. He watches the doctors and nurses trying to prolong what is not worth prolonging, and watches Fábio looking at them with some strange indulgence.

  
"What are you waiting for?" he asks Fábio one night.

  
"The right moment," Fábio says. "When you're ready."

  
Cristiano wants to tell him that he's as ready as he will ever be, but finally doesn't find the courage. So maybe the time isn't right yet.

 

***

  
The pale February sun is shining through the curtains. Ricardo is by his side. He rarely leaves the room now. Fábio sometimes comes when he is still there. It doesn't matter as Ricardo can't see him.

  
"Do you want something?" Ricardo asks.

  
Cristiano shakes his head.

  
"Some... some juice perhaps?"

  
Cristiano shrugs. Ricardo looks at him and takes a small step towards him. "I'll bring it. I'll be right back."

  
"Thank you, Ricky!" Cristiano whispers. "For everything."

  
Ricardo smiles and walks out of the room. He looks at little Cris who's sitting at the small plastic table in the anteroom, drawing something. "Wait here, Cris, I'll be right back," he tells him.

  
Cris nods and continues drawing. Ricardo rolls his collar up and starts down the corridor.

 

***

  
Cristiano listens to Ricardo's steps growing distant. "Fábio?" he whispers.

  
"I'm here, Cris."

 

"Can we go now? I want to go now."

  
"Sure," Fábio says. "Let's go, then."

  
Suddenly Cristiano's body feels incredibly light. Even though just moving his fingers hurt a minute ago, now he gets up like he's in his top form. No pain, no struggling. Like he's floating above the surface. Fábio smiles at him and takes his hand.

  
"Is it far away from here?" Cristiano asks.

  
"Just around the corner," Fábio says.

 

***

  
Cris Jr. appears in the doorway, looks at them and folds his arms. "Where are you taking my dad?" he asks Fábio.

  
"Somewhere he will feel better," Fábio answers calmly. "I'll take care of him there, I promise."

  
"But... will I see him again?"

  
"Of course you will."

  
"When?"

  
"When I come back for you and take you to that place as well."

  
"But you will come back, you promise?"

  
Fábio smiles. "I promise."

  
"Okay," Cris Jr. says and steps aside. "But don't take long."

  
"Don't worry," Fábio winks at him. "It will feel like a second."

 

***

 

Ricardo crosses the street and then stops in his tracks. He sees little Cris sitting on the bench in front of the hospital, swinging his legs back and forth. Ricardo hurries to him. "What are you doing here, Cris? Why aren't you with your daddy?"

  
"Daddy left with Fábio," Cris informs him.

  
"Who's Fábio?" Ricardo frowns.

  
"Daddy's friend. He took him away, but promised I would see him again. Said he would come back for me and take me to him. Said it wouldn't take long. So I think I'll just wait for him here."

  
Ricardo looks in his eyes and sees something deep in them, some wisdom a normal three years old boy shouldn't have. It sends a shiver down his spine, like something cold spreads there. He collapses on the bench next to Cris. "What does he look like?" he asks then, his voice coming out all shaky and raspy. "Fábio?"

  
Cris smiles. "He's beautiful, Ricky. Beautiful."


End file.
